Ad Venerem, quod elegis finem imponat

Tender Love's mother, a new poet get;
This last end to my elegies is set,
Which I, Peligny's foster-child, have framed
(Nor am I by such wanton toys defamed),
Heir of an ancient house, if help that can,
Not only by war's rage made gentleman.
In Virgil Mantua joys, in Catull Verone,
Of me Peligny's nation boasts alone,
Whom liberty to honest arms compelled,
When careful Rome in doubt their prowess held.
And some guest, viewing wat'ry Sulmo's walls,
Where little ground to be enclosed befalls,
" How such a poet could you bring forth?" says;
" How small soe'er, I'll you for greatest praise."
Both loves to whom my heart long time did yield,
Your golden ensigns pluck out of my field.
Horned Bacchus greater fury doth distil,
A greater ground with great horse is to till.
Weak elegies, delightful Muse, farewell;
A work that after my death here shall dwell.